A marked Birth
by NanaGelva
Summary: After suffering atrocious pains for weeks,Hermione wakes up to changes she isn't sure she can understand. Her identity is a lie, she doesn't even look like herself anymore and she is thrown into another existence full of lies and magic! How will she cope when her whole world is turned upside down? What Destiny has the Moon for her?ON HIATUS until the re-editing of the whole fiction
1. Prologue : Pain

_Hello everybody! Here I come with a new story!_

This will be my first long story that is destined to be published, so I hope it's worth the time. For now, I have no real idea on the definitive length it would reach but if I had to put an approximation it would be around the 100k mark, I think? I know, I know, it's ambitious but knowing my style I have to be real with myself and you too. Also, I'm _already ahead on a few chapters_ and plan to stay with the same configuration so that I can **update regularly**.

Maybe _once a week_ with a longer chapter or _twice a week_ with shorter chapters ? Tell me by reviewing so that I can accomodate, please?

It's my first real and serious array in lengthy fictions, before I didn't feel really ready on the commitment part, but now I feel up to the challenge!

I can already tell you definitely that it will be a **Dramione** , it will be **M-rated** and with no instantaneous love.

On this note, I present to you the prologue, please keep in mind that it is meant to be short in order to introduce the story, the chapters will increase in length!

 _Disclaimer:_ I have no rights on the property of JK Rowling nor make any money from it, I simply like to play with her characters and the universe she created for my personal enjoyment and other people's too.

* * *

Hermione woke up feeling sleazy and weak. Although it wasn't really a surprise considering it has been brewing for quite a few weeks already and as the days went, her body gradually fell under a state she has never experienced before. It has finally reached its pinnacle and Hermione felt something akin to a heavily water-imbued sponge deep in the ocean. Sweating like a pig in constant waves for days without ever stopping surely would have that effect on anybody (she wouldn't even be surprised if at this point she would be declared completely dehydrated). Weeks ago she couldn't even envision what that would feel like but now it was the best way to describe her confusing health.

The days came by and went, and Hermione set into a pattern consisting of in and out consciousness. She couldn't discern days from weeks, let alone define which day was Tuesday or Sunday, and even less what hour of the day she was in. It was just a continuous dream-like state, except those weren't dreams she wished to have ever again in the rest of her long life. She felt like someone came into her body and decided to wreak havoc while burning her insides with a crackling torch, all the while laughing like a pleased Voldemort. Scary.

The fire burning through her arteries and flesh seemed never ending, only allowing her a few moments of respite when it felt like being thrown into a giant frozen lake. The feeling of utter dread and frost creeping up in her body while her nerves succumbed to something akin a million electricity charged pulses was ghastly.

She couldn't fathom the reason as to why she was subjected to this living hell in the very few moments of lucidity this boiling allowed her to get. She would incessantly wonder why? What? How? Only, she didn't have any answers or any means to get some this time. Nobody had as far as she knew.

One of the advantages of being known as a know-it-all, a bookworm, and by some even a "bloody mad intellectual which", was that everybody knew that, sometimes, when she falls into her "subject of the moment" trance as Harry cautiously puts it, the best thing to do was leave her be and let her be alone with her books for some days. Unfortunately, she was now subjected to the downside of such a behavior since, surely enough, everyone thought she secluded herself in her library doing another one of her research, and nobody in their right mind would ever disrupt her without facing her madwoman wrath. Well, Malfoy would, but he has never been know for his sanity and respect for other's wishes, has he? Even so, it wouldn't matter since he was presently sent away on a mission somewhere, in China most probably, researching old Ming Dynasty's era magical objects. This all meant that nobody visited her, and thus knew that she was fatally ill, and literally wishing to die instead of being subjected to an additional second of this evil personified.

Progressively, the pyre seemed to be extinguishing, and molding itself into pins and needles, only to leave a new kind of feeling in Hermione. Nerve-wracking restlessness was assuredly a good way to put it mildly. She was trashing up in every direction like a rabid animal looking for something unknown to her. She felt like something was achingly missing from her entity. Something important being excruciatingly ripped from her. Something she couldn't live without. She knew somewhere in a part of her mind that she must find it under any condition or she would without a doubt perish.

But she couldn't move. Her limbs were like incarcerated on her bed. Her fingers felt like she stole them from another's body. Her legs were scalding hot. And she couldn't, for the life of her, fucking move to try to lessen the pain. It seemed the trashing around was actually only her neck manipulating her head into every possible direction. It wouldn't even surprise her to learn that she actually did something impossible for every other person on this planet like moving her head into a 360° position. Even so, she had to try and get out of the pain, she had to find again what seemed to miss and at the same time escaped her.

Furthermore, air was constantly leaving her lungs inexorably. She couldn't determine if the cause was her poor physical state, the pressing feeling of her bone-aching pain or the sealed stuffiness her room provided. Her breath was missing its usual strength and her organs felt even more strained from the lack of oxygen. Even though the pain had already played with her brain and rationality, the lack of the life-giving requirement sent her mind further in fuzziness.

Suddenly, she fell into a coma like state. Assuredly a reaction to the pain and loss of air she mused. Her eyes reached a never ending muted darkness. Her ears couldn't detect anything and her body was floating on what seemed to be a torrent of air. Surprisingly, she had never felt such at ease in her own body for her entire life. A sense of completion began to finally ease into her for the first time in her existence.

She had always felt like something was missing and she wasn't complete. What she felt earlier was only a culmination of a lifetime longing. The only moments in her life when she didn't feel the void as much was when she went into the natural open-spaces, the woods, running along the wilderness. This emptiness was further lessened especially during her Hogwarts days, when she would go jog in the Forbidden Forest with the magical creatures she seemed to go along with. Being at the castle always seemed to fill her body with a sense of belonging like nothing else. And running there was great. Unbeknownst to all, she was an active runner in her free time, sometimes she even went three times a day for a jog. Those were the days filled with stress, anxiety and frustration. The feeling of breath expanding her lungs, the strain on her muscles and most of all, the heavenly feel of air running almost playfully around her was a delicacy to her.

Nobody knew that side of her because nobody expected it from Hermione Granger. The bookworm, to be anything but the cozy type of person, choosing to settle in the couch instead of going outside? What a preposterous idea. Everybody knew she could make an effort if needed, but those were only life-threatening occasions, the type like being chased by Snatchers in a forest, right? But that wasn't Hermione.

She was the epitome of a free-spirit: thirsting for knowledge, fiercely independent and enjoying the abundance of air in the nature. People often wondered, because of her persona and attitude, when looking at her: how the hell could she integrate Hogwarts' Gryffindor House, where the brave dwell? She wasn't a hot-head like the typical house-member, nor overwhelmingly boisterous, her pride was definitely there but she didn't abundantly project it. So, what made the Old Hat tip the balance in his decision towards the red and gold section?

But, more often than not, people didn't know _her._ Her loyalty rivals any of the Hufflepuff house representatives, it was limitless if you earned it in some difficult way. Her cunning and ambition could more often than not surpass a Slytherin snake's one. Her studious and scholar persona that obtained her her multiple titles and the appellation of Brightest Witch of her Age, was the main reason of questioning towards her sorting, she surpassed every Ravenclaw in the run for erudition.

However, the Sorting Hat did rightfully his job. Her braveness was without bounds if the cause was worthy. Her pride could handicap her like so many other of her housemates', but her rational mind and posed attitude saved her form the overbearing hotheadedness most of the time. What really tipped the scales in favor of Gryffindor was that Hermione ultimately abhorred being repressed. Knowledge is liberty, actions are liberty, and Liberty was Hermione's greatest cause. She would fight for it, hers especially, for eternity.

Hermione was simply put a free spirit. Unrestricted, unbound and limitless. Maybe that's why she loved running amongst the wild so much, she felt as loose and independent as air itself in those occasions.

Being in an unending black pit undeniably allowed Hermione respite from her previous pain and time for lengthy musings to take place. The relief she felt when detecting that the fire and mind-numbing ache weren't there anymore wasn't humanly quantifiable. She felt like finally a true rest was gifted to her... even though she laid on her bed for what felt like weeks beforehand.

* * *

After a long while filled with abysses where Hermione nursed her remaining memories of pain, she slowly felt like brightness buzzed progressively on the edges of her consciousness. Bit by bit, the various nerves spread in her body responded once again to her brain transmitters. It started first with her toes and stretched at a slow pace to her legs, going upwards.

The tips of her fingers tingled startlingly as if they were electrocuted by a low current and the feeling went up towards her shoulders at an agonizing speed.

Her stomach felt finally free of cramps and gut-tearing pain. The unclenching of her spinal nerves left a wave of cell-deep relief course through the entirety of her body and made her back sag on the firm and soft mattress of her bed.

Most of all, as she felt her lungs slowly starting to expand more and more at each shallow breath, the air and oxygen it brought proportionally in her organism liberated her mind from the muddling she had felt conquering her as she fell unconscious hours ago. Various rational and well-constructed (on the opposite of the jumbled and undistinctive mess she had before) thoughts finally coursed from her usual bright and ever awake mind.

As she confusedly felt herself waking up, she tried to understand what exactly happened to her. Never before had she experienced such a sickness. What she had to temporarily class as an illness was entirely unknown to her.

As far as she knew (and she knew a lot about the various magical diseases thanks to her research on one of her previous projects for the Department of Mysteries where she worked), long periods of time putting the patient under mind-fuzzing and excruciating pain finally leading to unconsciousness was unheard of. At the first emergence of pain in different parts of her body, Hermione checked externally for any rash or other deformation, and with her wand for internal tears. But, she didn't find anything, so there were no detectable symptoms except from the generalized pain.

Furthermore, she couldn't even attribute it to a curse or a side-effect from a magical object she encountered at her workplace, since she had, for weeks now, been in the research only period of her new project on old Slavic magical rites.

Hermione was frustrated, to say the least, no rational explanation could be attributed to her weeks of suffering. She felt like all her pain and burning came out of nowhere and attacked her unrelentingly without any reason. Why her, in particular? How come? For what? What is the purpose?

Her mind tried to find or supply different hypotheses, but, alas, for now, she had no reliable information apart from her empiric observations so she would have to put a hold on her research up until she could find books and facts. A different kind of restlessness was invading her now. She couldn't wait.

Finally, after her long-winded processing, she tried to open her eyes. At first, her lids felt unresponsive, and then only reluctant to her orders, as if they were stuck together, which would be kind of understandable since the torrent of tears they leaked was all dried up now.

After a while, she at last saw the light in her room. It was muted as if dawn or dusk were the periods of the day. Slowly, she acclimated progressively to the strange clearness of her gaze. Never before has she seen so sharply in her life, over reading tendencies usually tended to destroy slowly one's eyesight and made them wear glasses.

She turned her head to the right of her bed to look at the muggle electronic clock she transformed so that it could work around the magic, and confirmed her fears. It was now April 4th, and last time she looked at the calendar was the day she felt the pains come, it was March 13th at the brisk of dawn. How in Merlin's name has she survived more than three weeks without any food or water?!

She felt herself stop moving and slowly get petrified by the new information.

A few moments after, a tiny high-pitched voice interrupted her musings by speaking right into her ear on the opposite side of her bed. She shrieked, impersonating a young schoolgirl, like never before in her life.

"Good afternoon. Congratulations on your Maturing, Mistress Nymph." it said.

* * *

Thanks for reading at least this prologue!

So, what are your thoughts for now? Do you like it so far? Are you going to continue reading?


	2. Chapter 1 : Awakening

This chapter will be published immediately after the prologue so I won't make any lengthy author's note. Anyway, since you clicked the next button it means you're at least willing to give a chance to my story so thanks for that!

On this note, good reading!

* * *

"Good afternoon. Congratulations on your Maturing, Mistress Nymph." the light but oddly mature sounding voice said.

Hermione screamed immediately. The sound she let out of her throat was so embarrassing she would deny for the rest of her life that at that moment she rivaled a 7 years old child who broke her favorite doll. She quickly jumped and turned towards the person that interrupted her wandering thoughts.

As she settled on her bed again, she took a deep breath to try to calm the erratic speed of her beating heart and the floods of adrenaline coursing through her because of the scare she just experienced. Her hand went by itself where her heart would be if it were visible and she closed her eyes for a moment to regain her composure by taking a deep calming breath. She wouldn't let herself be reckless by reacting without an ounce of a clear mind analyzing the situation.

She opened her eyes and took a good look of the stranger that scared her. He was small, but not the likes of a Leprechaun, his build was on the lean side and everything was proportioned. He just looked like someone with a very small stature. However, she could discern clearly that even though he clearly was humanoid, he wasn't human.

His fingers ended with clean pale claws and his thumb was slightly more advanced towards the rest of his hand. His skin was almost translucent in his milkiness, and if one focused, the lines of his veins were easily identifiable through his complexion. But, most of his difference was concentrated on his face. His ears were pointed and a little too big for his head, they even parted his cleanly jaw- cut dark hair. His chin and cheekbones protruded clearly on his face while his nose was really small and a little pointy. His yellowish eyes were big and almost cat like but weren't mounted by any eyebrows. Even if it sounded a little bit scary, the ensemble looked oddly noble and elegant.

The expression he wore was very polite. He didn't mock her for her reaction and wasn't too pinched either. It was just the right amount to appear respectful and distinguished, while still not cold. She appreciated his carefulness and regard to her reactions.

"Please accept my apologies if I scared you Mistress. It wasn't in my intention to startle you like that."

Hermione wanted to correct him on his way of calling her but only nodded and smiled tentatively at him. "I'm sorry about my reaction too, I didn't expect to see anybody and your presence surprised me very much. If I may be blunt, would you maybe tell me who you are and how come you're here in my house? I don't recall ever seeing you before and I don't want to make any hasty assumption."

The male creature lowered respectfully his head downwards and replied to her inquiry after standing upright again. "My name is Kili Oaker and my presence was required here to accompany you towards your Maturation. Your magic called to me and it was my honor as a Wooden Elf to serve you in your time with the Moon."

His answer confused her to say the least. She didn't understand what he was talking about. A Maturation? Her magic calling him? Time with the Moon? The only thing she could explain was his nature. She was surprised he showed himself to her since Wooden Elves were known to be skittish and hiding from human presence. Nobody knew exactly what they really looked like, or if they knew they were swore to secrecy so that no information could be given to the rest of the Wizarding World.

She voiced her questions to Kili. "What is a Maturation? How did my magic call you, and why you in particular? What happened exactly to me if you were here to witness it? What..."

When she looked at him after standing up, pacing in front of her bed and rambling the rest of abundant questions her mind could think of, at such fast speed that nobody could have understood, he looked floored. He regrouped himself and only contemplated her with a confused expression. After a while of figuring the gist of it out, he seemed to be deciding what to say and how to reply to her.

"Before I answer your questions, could you maybe present yourself please? I would like to know how to call you."

"Oh! Of course! Excuse me, I was just startled and forgot. I'm Hermione Granger (muggleborn witch if you were wondering). I work as an Unspeakable so you may speak with me without fear of me divulging any information to the wizarding mass."

He took a pause again and replied carefully. "I'm sorry if what I'm about to say is going to shock you but please, sit, it will be better I think." He waited for her to listen to his advice before continuing at a slow pace and with a very soft voice, obviously hesitating on the wording of his speech. "I believe you have been misled miss. Your name may really be Hermione because it has a Greek origin, but I don't know your real last name nor which Clan you heed from. You are not muggleborn, nor a witch..."

She couldn't hear anymore. Her jaw slacked, her eyes bulged and her breath left once again entirely her lungs. She wasn't really shocked because he announced her that she wasn't who she thought for her entire life. After all, those words could be said by anybody, and they could be easily lying. No, she was trembling because she knew that Elves couldn't lie. They could conceal or say only parts of a truth, but their magic wouldn't permit them to lie. They were inexorably incapable of it or else they would suffer atrocious pains until they told the real facts.

She looked for any signs that would indicate he was pained in any form or fashion but she couldn't detect any. She hoped against hope that he had somehow detached from his magic, but inside, her own magic was telling her he spoke the truth. And she always trusted her magic to feel for the right.

 _That_ was the cause of her shaking body and the erratic breath moving her lungs. He told the truth. Her identity, what she knew about herself was wrong. She wasn't Hermione Granger anymore. The blood status she fought for was erroneous. Her place in magic society was incorrect. Merlin only knew if she was born the day she thought she was!

Tears unconsciously leaked softly from her eyes. She took notice of them when they slid down her jaw and sensitive neck. Passingly and briefly, she wondered how could her lacrimal glands even produce more tears after drying up from weeks of over-production?

She leaned her back down and laid on her bed softly sighing and whimpering quietly. It seemed to her, her whole world was shaken. Her mind was blank from the shock and the uncertainty about herself.

Kili softly took her hand and sat beside her. She could feel the silky but thick skin of his fingers caressing her hand and avoiding to scratch her with his claws. She closed her eyes and made him know she appreciated his gesture of sympathy by squeezing softly his smaller hand.

"I'm sorry Miss Hermione, for being the one to announce it to you. I hope you're not angry with me, but you deserved to know the truth."

She tried a first time to respond but her voice seemed stuck in her. She cleared her throat and replied. "I'm not angry at you Kili, I'm even thankful for the way you delivered it to me. But… I'm just uncertain about everything right now."

She took a few more minutes to absorb the impact of the new revelation, Kili by her side supporting her silently. She needed to be able to think clearly.

Standing up slowly, she let go of Kili's hand and squeezed his shoulders instead while telling him with the eyes her gratitude for his action. She went to the bay windows leading to a grand balcony attached to her room and opened them wildly.

She inhaled deeply the freshness of the air surrounding her house leading to a forest and felt the breeze envelop her comfortingly, caressing her face as if telling her it would all be okay.

After a few moments of putting herself together, she went back to her room and told Kili that he was welcomed to feel at home in her house while she went to take a long awaited shower.

* * *

Her forehead hit softly the coolness of her black bathroom tiles and she exhaled a long breath, trying to relax as much as she could under the warmth of her shower. She set the temperature high and the pressure strong to release as much as she could the cramps from her unused and sore muscles.

Even though she could slowly feel her body regaining its normal state, her mind was in a jumbled mess. Coherent and incomprehensible thoughts mixed in a disarray. She wanted to cry. To scream. To kneel down and embrace herself in consolation.

But she wouldn't. She was Hermione, maybe not Granger, but who she was didn't change even if circumstances did. And that person, she knew, wouldn't pity herself and become a crying mess. She was strong and she would fight this problem head on. She survived a sodding war, she could survive this too!

Her prep talk helped to alleviate the edge, but it didn't take away the hurt. She was hurting in a way she never had before. When Bellatrix tortured her, drew her blood and carved her arm forever, the pain she felt was excruciating, her whole body cramping and screaming from the atrocity.

When she wiped her parent's memories of her and their home life, her heart broke in parts that would never again be brought together in her life. Their deaths in Australia after disowning her when she countered the Obliviate from their minds, only exaggerated the existing pain.

At Ron's betrayal another part of her heart broke, but it was not only for their romantic relationship, it was more for their friendship. She knew that their couple wouldn't hold on much longer, but she expected at least respect and consideration from him. He threw all the mindless sex with groupies he had while they were still together in her face when she broke up with him, and tried to put the blame on her. Her trust was broken and now she guarded herself much more.

However, none of it compared to what she felt right at this instant. It was like a mix of every of this kinds of pains. The physical aspect from her weeks of mind-ripping agony. The heart breaking in pieces for herself, and most of all, the feeling of being betrayed by her own parents.

Why didn't they tell her they weren't her real parents? Did they know, actually? Were they aware of her magical heritage long before the visit of Professor McGonaggal? Was that the reason they couldn't forgive her actions to protect them? Because they weren't her real parents and the girl they graciously took care of seemingly spit it their face?

As usual when confronted with a new problem, her mind conjured unending questions. However, now she also felt aside from the hurt, anger boiling in her. And one particular line of questioning came back every few seconds: who were her real parents and why was she adopted?

She turned off her shower and grabbed her towel from the commode storing them. She dried herself up and used her magic to blow dry her hair, so that her curls would be luxuriant and defined, a trick she picked up from Malfoy during their eighth year at Hogwarts. She reached for her robe and reveled in its soft warmth.

Then, she went forward to her sink and took her face cream. As she was about to slather it on her cheeks, she looked up at the mirror and screamed at the reflection she saw.

She couldn't believe what her eyes told her. That couldn't be her. The woman she saw was a new person to her. She touched her face with her fingers: first her cheeks, then her nose, mouth, forehead and eyes. But all her movements were mirrored by the reflection.

Hermione wasn't usually one for cussing needlessly, but she definitely needed to right now. "Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…" She repeated the word like a mantra and slowly reached higher and higher decibels as panic began to grip her tightly in its clutches.

She sat down on the cold tiles and tried to calm her anxiousness. She inhaled and exhaled deeply each time to regulate her breathing pattern and her cardiac rhythm. If she didn't die from a heart attack today, after all the shocks she endured, she should definitively consider herself as healthy as a horse!

When she was calm again, she stood up slowly and braced herself before turning towards the mirror again. What she saw there didn't, unfortunately, change in the few minutes she didn't look.

Grey almost silvery white eyes stared back at her. They looked cold and ethereal. Her cheekbones were slightly more defined than before but she thought it could also be from the weeks of sickness. Her skin was silkier and a little bit more pale than before, it looked creamy and soft. She still had the same features: arched brows, thin and upturned nose, and a pouty mouth. What changed the most apart from her eyes was her hair.

The curls and the volume was still there, but the coloration changed. Where before it was a deep neutral brown color, now that previous tone was only at her roots. From there on the color changed. After the deep dull brown, it changed to a deep cinder, then went downwards in a decrescendo of silvery gray. The tips of her hair were almost white!

She touched it as if it would go miraculously back to how it were before, but it stayed the same weird gradient of ash and silver flowing from her head.

Next, she released the unique piece of clothing on her and looked at her back. She certainly wouldn't like some kind of wings or another appendage growing out of her body. She didn't detect anything really amiss, only the birthmark in the shape of a crescent moon seemed to change: it became darker, almost black now, and had a silver iridescent tint to it.

She tightened the sash holding her robe closed around her nudity, slipped on her house footwear and went out of the bathroom hurriedly.

'Kili! Kili! Where are you? Kili!" Her voice was harried and breathy. She sounded panicked even to herself, but she couldn't help it! She ran into her bedroom like a headless chicken looking for the Elf and as she was about to head out of the room, Kili stepped in looking worried.

"Mistress! What's the matter?"

"The matter? Look at me, Kili! I don't even look like myself anymore! What the heck is going on with my eyes and hair? And my birthmark! It looks like a moonstone now! Why did they change?!"

Kili looked at her and mused for a few seconds. "Mistress, would you maybe like to go outside on the balcony, sit down while I go fetch the tea I prepared for us? I will tell you everything I know, I promise."

She regarded him for a moment and nodded her acceptance. She went out and sat on one of the outdoor chairs that adjourned the wooden table. Kili came back with a tray supporting their two hot cups and put it on the flat surface of the furniture. He sat on the opposing chair and gazed at her carefully.

"First, I would like to say that I really am sorry about informing you of all that. I wish you had known about your true heritage and I just had to Congratulate you, and swear allegiance to you. Now, I must ask you to listen without interrupting me please, I know it will be a difficult thing to hear but maybe you'll digest it easier if it isn't too stretched out."

"Alright. Let me just take a moment to brace myself and…" She didn't finish her sentence but the idea was clear to them both.

Kili waited a few moments and then took a deep breath. His voice was soft and he spoke to her calmly, as slowly as possible, no doubt in an attempt to prevent her form fainting.

"Miss Hermione. You are a Nymph. A Wind wielder actually. That is the reason of your changes in coloring. Every Nymph at their 21st lunar birthday, goes into Maturing. This is the moment where they enter in connection with the Moon Goddess. Most of the Nymphs are blessed by the Moon with the gift of being part of an element, but not everybody can really wield it, it depends on the strength of the symbiosis between the natural force and the concerned Nymph.

Your eyes and hair turned in shades of gray because the element you're affiliated to is Wind… Don't you feel how the breeze seems to touch you lovingly and reassuringly?"

Hermione closed her eyes and concentrated. Softly she could feel and appreciate the feeling of air caressing her face and slowly lifting her hair in every direction. She opened her eyes in amazed wonderment and Kili smiled at her delicately.

"That is because you are a very powerful Wind Nymph, Mistress, the element itself reaches out to you. The amount of time you were Maturing is almost unheard of, a little less than a month! The strength of your magic called to me in the first stage and apparated me immediately by your side. You have to understand that only a few of your race are actually assisted by us, and generally it is only a call we may or not take, depending on our willingness. This is only a sign of your true power, be proud."

He shot her an awed look, and Hermione felt guilty because it only made her more nervous and awkward. Not only was she apparently of another species but she also was an anomaly! Couldn't the world just let her breath for a minute without overwhelming her? Merlin!

"Mistress, I think it may be prudent to stop here for now, I don't want you to feel oppressed either. I have to go back briefly to my city anyway, to inform the Elders of your Maturation. Could you maybe show me the mark you were talking about earlier, I just want to check if everything is alright."

She looked up at him worried and expressed her concern. "Alright?! Why wouldn't it be?!"

"Please, don't worry, it's standard to look at every birthmark because the change in the body could sometimes expel various toxins or diseases you may have stored, through your skin. It's actually a very healthy process."

Hermione nodded and stood up from her chair. She turned around, and carefully bared her back to his gaze. As she pushed her hair on her right shoulder, she could hear Kili gasping.

She looked back at him and saw him wearing a flabbergasted expression on his usually passive face.

"What? Is something wrong?!" When he didn't reply, she felt frustration and anxiety take hold of her and spoke more roughly, demandingly. "Kili! What is it?!"

He composed himself while she made herself presentable again, and as she faced him he replied. "Nothing is wrong, Mistress, I just have to talk to the Elders before saying anything. I don't want to make false assumptions by telling you my first impression. I will try to be as fast as possible and come back soon, Miss Hermione. Please relax and rest during my absence. If you decide to go out, would you maybe just write a note please?" He looked at her pleadingly and she couldn't resist the slight movement of acceptance leaving her at the sight of his huge eyes staring at her. "Goodbye."

Hermione didn't even have the time to say anything before he eclipsed himself with a bright greenish light encompassing his small body. She growled with a frustrated look marring her features, and went back inside to lie on her bed and think about the massive, nuclear bombs Kili delivered previously.

* * *

Two hours later and Hermione was still ruminating on everything she learned about herself today. She couldn't believe it was actually real, she knew that she was in a state of shock, but she wouldn't do anything to get out of it. It helped to alleviate the edge of hurting by numbing her slightly, so it was actually a good thing.

She had to do something. She wouldn't waste away like that: still in her bathrobe and laying on her bed. She stood up, dressed herself with the first pieces of clothing she could find and brushed her teeth. Finally. A clean, fresh mouth. After a few weeks. Ew.

Her parents would be horrified at the state her dentition was in.

A surge of sadness and bitterness passed briefly through her at the thought. Then, it clicked. Her parents! She wrote a quick note destined to the kind Wooden Elf and put comfortable sneakers on before apparating out of her home.

She steadied herself after her arrival and looked at the house in front of her eyes. So many memories and feelings resided now in this building instead of the people that once lived in it. Even after their rejection she didn't and couldn't separate herself from her parent's house. Right at this instant, she deemed it a good idea, if she could found any possible information on her adoption.

At the threshold of the front door Hermione knew there was a small part of the wood that would go up, and that you could pull out. It was the place where she stored the front keys under a Disillusioned Charm. It was easier than taking the juggling metals everywhere with her in the less than probable case she would need it one day.

When she unlocked and then opened the door, she was assailed by the combined smells of staleness, dustiness and home. She guessed it would never completely go away if even the walls were impregnated with the spices of her mother's cooking and the foulness of her father's automobile oils. She sighed and gathered herself.

The first place she searched through was the living room, the theory of 'hidden in plain sight' that her parents often described as one of the most effective techniques during one of their conversations, but she didn't find anything except old receipts and letters in the commode drawers.

Then she looked through every single inch of her parents' joined offices. She found the financial accounts of her parents' dental office, the taxes they payed in the last twenty years at least, their copies of various professional contracts, but nothing of interest regarding her current situation.

She thought maybe they would hide it in their bedroom, in a box or whatever else that she wouldn't have ever found without deliberately searching for it, but nothing intrigued her except old pictures and a birth and death certificate for a "Mary Anne Granger" that died a few months before her own birth from a genetic cardiac malformation when she was only 36 weeks old. It broke her heart that her parents had to go through that kind of pain and she understood then the reason they decided to go for adoption.

However, she found nothing concerning the matter at hand and frustration was increasingly bubbling up. She knew that her parents would preserve those papers, they were meticulous and conscientious when dealing with important documents. She just didn't know where they could be.

She went back down to the kitchen and decided to open a bottle of red wine she found in the cupboard 'reserved for the adults'. As she was pulling the bottle of her choice out of the cupboard, she accidentally hit the roof panel and heard a metallic 'click'.

She didn't even have the time to ponder and investigate the weird sound when a slight rustle reached her ears. She looked up towards the wall and saw that a part of it moved a little, as if a door was concealed by it. Suddenly, a few images of the past came back at the front of her mind.

How as a kid she was very curious and especially liked to try sneaking out of her room to explore the forbidden cave. How her father found her one day and for the first time of her young life saw him atrociously angry at her for only going in a room, making her cry her eyes out. How, a few weeks after, as they were preparing their travel bags for the upcoming annual summer trip, a few scary and huge construction workers in their black overalls coming in and taking mensurations in their kitchen. How at their arrival from France there wasn't a door leading to the cave anymore. Her parents told her after she asked, that it had been inundated and they had to seal it shut for her protection and health.

Now, she wondered what exactly they were hiding down there that her five year old mind hadn't understood back then. What were they afraid of showing her, that they had to change their own house for her not to discover it?

She stood up and gripped with her fingers the slight space of the concealed door that was freed by the mechanism. She opened it wide and got her wand out murmuring "Lumos Maxima" while pointing down the wooden stairs leading to the cave.

A sort of fear and nervous anxiety gripped her right at that moment. What would she find down there? She imagined different scenarios increasing in unrealistic imagination, and even thought of magical creatures or wards protecting the secrets they hid from her.

She detached the light from the tip of her wand and set it to go on the entire roof of the cave. It created instantly a uniform bluish lighting in the room and showing her the contents it held.

In the middle of the surface there was a massive rectangular piece of hip-high furniture that had a flat top and a multitude of chest drawers. On the walls were suspended shelves of different heights, some were covered by sliding panels and others were left open. She walked around, observed intently and couldn't for the life of her, believe what she saw there, in her parents' cave.

She wouldn't have been as astounded, out of depth and horrified if she had discovered devious sex toys and homemade porn. Instead, she saw weapons: knives, sabers, guns, missiles…

Why the fuck would her ordinary dentist parents store that kind of things in their underground?!

In the central furniture she discovered money in liquid, enormous amounts, jewels and rare stones, the kind you could only imagine in your head as a child with voracious creativity! She took in between her fingers a stone that looked like a mixture of sapphire and emerald, and she was even afraid to touch it for fear or destroying it inadvertently.

Shock was a mild word for what she felt at that moment. Was what she knew of Jane and Thomas Granger entirely a lie?

To collect such a treasure one would either be from a royal family or a criminal. Both of the options were ideas she would never have associated with her parents in her entire life.

However, she knew the first possibility wasn't really one. It only made it worse.

She couldn't deal with the wretched day she had until now, any more. Her breathing pattern reached the state of hyperventilating, her hands shook and tears were sliding down her face like a river the size of the Amazon.

She went out of the cursed room, canceling the spell after her and went up the stairs. Unconsciously, her feet lead her to her old room. The room where she had only been a little girl with uncommon interests. Where she had been unaware of betrayal, death and terror. Where she dreamed of happy endings while chastising herself for her girlishness, but still smiling at the fought of her soulmate saving her from a vile monster.

Now, she only wanted to go back to that time when her parents were kind and unassuming dentists that loved her very much. Where all she had to worry about was what would be the next book she would read while hiding from her parents at the time she should have been sleeping instead.

She laid down on her old bed, her feet hanging in the air because she was too tall now, and cried herself to sleep. The last twenty four hours couldn't be real. She couldn't have actually learned that first she was adopted, she was now a matured Nymph, furthermore a powerful Wind type one, and that apparently her parents actually led a double life full of killing tools and probably stolen treasures.

Hermione hoped against all hope that the day she just went through was in reality only a hallucination induced by the pain she had felt for three weeks already. She cried herself to sleep, holding tightly her pillow and with it her childhood memories to her chest, while curling in herself like a wounded animal, her knees joining her hands to the pillow. No, that horrible day couldn't be real.

* * *

Thank you for reading! Did you like it? Do you maybe have any questions?

What do you think of the basic installment? Please, let me know your thoughts by **reviewing** , in order for me to maybe ameliorate or clarify some points, and even maybe my writing in general? I know it takes time but it just helps to gauge your response to my work and I would really appreciate it from the bottom of my heart!

 _Also, if anyone feels like_ _ **beta**_ _-ing my story, I'm open to offers, just send me a PM and we'll discuss it privately!_

Bye, Nana ~ !


End file.
